


One, Two, And I Can't Take Three

by Regret Me (MythicObsessions)



Series: You Find Yourself At The Top With No One To Share It With [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Patrick was like fourteen and can feel when Pete had sex, Soul Mate AU, and that's like all of the sexual content, not really underage, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:30:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5167304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicObsessions/pseuds/Regret%20Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete and Patrick were soul mates. Pete wasn't emotionally stable, Patrick got the blunt of that. So he cut him off.<br/>Fall Out Boy's getting more popular and Patrick swears he does not have a soul mate anymore, but that's definitely not his feelings there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One, Two, And I Can't Take Three

**Author's Note:**

> Errors on me  
> Comments are nice.  
> I might actually make this into a real story. I don't know yet. 
> 
> Love, your obsessions.

Patrick woke suddenly, the sun was rising outside his window when he felt the sudden buzz of his bond.

 _I'm doing it again,_ it said, _I keep failing you, I'm so sorry._

Then the pity, the thoughts that rushed in after. And oh, oh that's, that's strange. The way his body was awake, warm and buzzing and _turned on_.  
Patrick cried out and hide his face in his pillow as it kept going, the thoughts of his soul mate running through his own head.  
No, no. Patrick thought to the bond.  
“Please!” Patrick said aloud, sobbing. “Please, stop.”

\- no more, please.

* * *

 Pete was laughing, but then again, he always was. What he was laughing at, Patrick seemed to have missed. It was about midnight now, maybe a little past, and what had started as a party had slowly faded into just Pete, Andy, Joe and Patrick.

Patrick happened to be a little too drunk to follow the conversation that seemed to bounce from music to literature to gossip about who fucked who this year in school. And Patrick didn't really care to hear that anyway, he was busy dealing with a clingy Pete and trying to get his lukewarm beer to his mouth without spilling it all over himself and Pete who was straddling his lap. It was a trick to pull when he was sober so it was nearly impossible now that his head was spinning and he had an ear full of Pete's happy laughter.  
He almost wanted to push Pete off, down his drink and just go to bed, but then again, he equally wanted to stay with Pete on him in a way that probably should not be this suggestive in front of their friends.

Suggestive seating or not, he really didn't want to move yet. He was comfy and had a nice warm buzz running up and down his limbs.

“That girl.” Pete started, talking about something or another. “Remember the one with the hair?”  
Pete made an over dramatic flail around his head to, apparently, describe this girl's hair.

“Wait, wait. The one with the obsession for red eye shadow and blue hair dye?” Joe piped up, smiling. “You mean like... with her?”  
“With her, on her, whatever.” Pete said. “Dude, it was so weird.”  
Patrick watched the conversation with mild interest.

“I'm surprised it wasn't with a guy.” Andy said deadpan. “I thought you were into guys?”  
“And chicks!” Pete said fast and excited. “Sometimes nothing is better then a nice pair of tits”

Patrick made a face at this and he felt a hand on his cheek.  
“No, no, Patrick” Pete said, smiling his big stupid smile. “Don't worry, you're still my favorite.”  
Patrick snorted at that and set his head against Pete's chest.  
There was a click. Emotions that couldn't have been Patrick's. Excited, happy, buzzed. A hint of something else too. Patrick blinked against Pete's chest.  
  
A bond?

* * *

Patrick clung to his mother on the way to the specialist. He was crying and he couldn't stop. He didn't know why, probably something to do with his soul mate, somewhere in the city doing something or other. Something Patrick didn't want to know about. 

“He can't deal with this anymore.” His mother was telling the doctor, Jones or James or something, Patrick didn't remember.  
“His bond mate is a total fuck up, they're bringing him down too.”  
The words stung Patrick more than he would have thought and he pushed off his mom, averting his gaze.  
“Shut up.” He mumbled. “Shut up, don't say that. They're not. Shut up.”  
He was weak with emotion at this point, tired of the stress. Tired of everything. He felt that silent buzz that meant his other half was too. Just so tired of it all.

* * *

Patrick pushed at Pete until he was flat against the ally wall of the venue. There was a thick haze of smoke that might have been from cigarettes but Patrick very much so doubted it. The lights from the little store next to the club shone green and orange, colors that really, really shouldn't be mixed, Patrick gathered, when you were so high you couldn't see straight without something interesting right in front of you. 

Pete had a beer in his hand and a cigarette, unlit, held between his lips and, of fucking course, no shirt. It was a funny view actually. The smile, the smoke, the funky lighting and the left over stage sweat. Funny because god had randomly decided to play an evil prank on Patrick, and the suddenness actually shocked a laugh out of Patrick as he leaned over Pete and just breathed in the gross, sweaty musk of him. So he was laughing in a position that, to a stranger, someone who didn't know Pete and Patrick, could be kind of, no really, really suggestive.

Maybe someone's nervous.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

Patrick laughed into the crook of Pete's neck for what felt like hours but could have been less than a minute. Pete had a hand curled around his neck and had, at some point, lit his cigarette, looking up at the hazy night sky.

Honestly, Patrick kind of wanted to die because of the thoughts that suddenly raced through his head.

Pete on his knees.

Pete in his bed.  
Pete begging.  
Patrick, please stop torturing yourself.

Patrick hid his eyes against Pete's skin.  
“You know.” Pete said suddenly. “You know how everyone has a soul mate.”  
Patrick hummed his acknowledgment.

“We're all supposed to have that one person, right? That fits with us like a puzzle piece. One half that missed it's partner since it's birth until one day they had their other half.” Pete nodded to himself, smiling at this explanation. “Patrick, you're my other half.”  
Patrick laughed, not really surprised that it went there.

Pete was just like that.  
_Patrick! You're my soul mate!_

_You'll always get me better than anyone else._

_You're my favorite person._

_I'm yours.  
_ A sweet buzz seemed to come with these words though, like they always do. Patrick wouldn't deny that Pete was attractive but that wasn't the point. Pete was his best friend, his band mate, his room mate. His _best goddamned friend_.

A list that ran through Patrick's mind every time he thought about Pete, Pete's smile, Pete's lips.  
“Pete.” Patrick whispered, his voice a little rough from the show. “Pete.”  
“Patrick.” Pete looked at Patrick, smiling.

“You're right.” Patrick said softly. “You're really really right.”  
He felt a soft humming in his chest. Emotions. So, so many emotions. Too many for just Patrick to have came up with himself.  
  
No. He didn't have a soul mate anymore.

* * *

“Fucking hell!” Patrick yelled, pushing past the pack of high school bottom feeders. 

He already missed the bell thanks to some jocks that decided Patrick was a great alternative for a soccer ball and pushed him around for at least fifteen minutes.

He didn't want to be anymore late than he already was.

He pushed and pushed until he seemed to break through the dam of students, not expecting and almost fell face first into the floor.  
Oh and the hot, tan emo boy who was crouched down there picking up books.  
“Oh.” He said smartly and tugged his backpack that much higher.  
The boy, all eyeliner and black hair, looked up to see Patrick and smiled weakly.  
“Oh?” He said as he continued to pick up paper and books.

Patrick sighed and dropped to his knees, helping the other boy with his stuff.

He could hear the loud “ohhhh” that went through the crowd as he started handing the books to the boy. Well, he couldn't get into that much more trouble. He was already a punching bag for more than half of the school.

He helped get up all the items and looked to the kid. Obviously he was new if Patrick hadn't noticed him before.

“Pete.” Said Emo kid. “My name. It's Pete.”  
“Patrick.” Patrick said, slowly. “Well, you're fucked, I'm fucked.”  
“Let's be fucked together?” He replied and bounced up as Patrick slowly got up, one knee at a time.  
“You're a little a head of yourself there, Pete.” Patrick deadpanned.

 

Patrick woke up on Saturday to Pete, that new kid, throwing rocks up at his window.  
Now that he thought about it, he hadn't given Pete his address, like, ever. He rolled out of bed and pulled open his window.  
“what?!” He yelled down.  
Pete shrugged. “Want to get breakfast with me?”

Patrick sighed loudly and decided.  
“Fuck it, why not.” He said out loud, more to himself as he turned away to get dressed. He could hear Pete's excited whooping and laughter.

Little adorable emo.

* * *

 

Patrick huffed loudly, basically tossing his guitar at a techie and managing not to scream bloody murder.

He could remember the words spoken pressed against his neck during the show.  
Pete was stumbling after him, not talking at all.

An itchy click click hit the inside of his chest. No, he didn't have a bond. They'd made sure of it.

The pills, the therapy. He was dead to his soul mate, and his soul mate was as good as dead to him.  
Pete was grabbing at him, but he pulled away.

Click, click.

 _Please._  
No, he didn't have a goddamned bond.

_Please, please._

Pete finally got a hold of Patrick's shirt sleeve half way through the venue.  
He stepped right past Patrick and kept pulling him right were he had been going. Out.

Fresh air would clear his head.

Pete pushed open the door and almost threw Patrick through it.  
“You-you fucking left me.” Pete snapped. “You left.”  
Patrick shook his head. “What? No. I'm right here.”  
“No.” Pete said slowly. “You feel that right.”  
And yeah, yeah he felt that.  
A soft hum that was dancing through is veins. So many emotions and only a handful of them could have been Patrick's. A handful. Which definitely meant the other ones weren't his.

“I-” Patrick started and then there was Pete, too close.  
Patrick's shoulders hit the wall with a thud and hissing sound as air left his lungs. Pete's arms on either side of his head.  
“You left.” Pete said again. “You left.”  
Patrick was shaking, he knew it too.

He opened his mouth and closed it. There wasn't much he could say. He really had left Pete.

“You didn't die.” Pete said slowly and then, just as slowly, leaned in and kissed Patrick.

Patrick froze.

Wait, what? Pete should be pissed... But no, he was kissing Patrick. Slowly, urging Patrick to just open up and Patrick obeyed, letting his mouth open for Pete.

Patrick tugged at Pete's shirt, pulling him closer, suddenly all too aware of how far they were from each other. He despised the inches between them.

Pete was first to pull out of the kiss, moving a hand up to Patrick's cheek and just, staring. Patrick couldn't not push into the gentle touch.  
“You didn't die.” Pete said again, “I thought you had died.”  
Patrick blinked at Pete. What?  
Oh the bond.  
“I-” Pete moved his hand from Patrick's cheek to his mouth, covering it and stopping that sentence.

“No warnings.” Pete said. “I felt you, upset, and then, nothing.”

* * *

Pete woke up in a bed he didn't recognize but that really wasn't new to him. He managed to stay standing as he pushed up, but it was a close call. He was tugging on his pants when he felt it.

 _Shut up,_ A buzz and click, _shut up, don't say that. They're not._

Pete froze, his hands stilling on his jeans button.

Then a flood of emotions.

Pissed. Oh.

Their pissed off.

Pete sighed and kept tugging on his clothes.

He had just gotten outside and into the sun when he felt it. Well, not felt it. Complete radio silence. No white-noise that was a soul bond. That connection that kept you aware.  
He stopped in his tracks, and then presiding to fall to his knees and cry his eyes out. He didn't know what had happened but whatever did, his soul mate wasn't there anymore.

* * *

Pete stared at Patrick now, so close. Alive too.

He could feel the white-noise again. Well, it wasn't really white-noise now. It was a loud musical clashing really. But Patrick had always sounded like that, from day one. Loud and actually but annoying. A comfort Pete had missed so goddamned much that he had searched for a replacement. A replacement he never actually found. Not really a replacement, no. No he had actually found the real deal.

He couldn't stop it when he started crying, happy and full of sadness too.  
Patrick looked shocked but didn't try talking again, he just blinked sadly at Pete and breathed against the hand Pete left there.  
“You just left.” He breathed. “You didn't die.”  
Patrick didn't say anything.  
“You didn't-”  
Patrick pulled away from Pete's hand now.  
“No. I didn't die.” He said and pulled Pete into a hug. “I'm so sorry.”  
“Don't be.” Pete huffed out a sad laugh, still crying. He pushed his nose into Patrick's neck. “You're alive.”  
“Yeah, yeah I'm alive.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> There are literally a hundred reasons I could use to not post this but I have a little Jazz Cat that makes me want to post my writing.  
> Thank him.


End file.
